Westen Mistakes
by Islabella
Summary: Confucius said "Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes", but for Lily Westen, she refuses to lie in a bed she never made.


"Since my young days of passion – joy or pain,

Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string,

And both may jar: it may be, that in vain

I would essay, as I have sung, to sing.

Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling;

So that it wean me from the weary dream

Of selfish grief or gladness – so it fling

Forgetfulness around me – it shall seem

To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme."

4th Canto - Childe Harold's Pilgrimage- Lord Byron

Lily didn't hear the door slam open, but the force was hard enough to jostle her on the couch "upstairs" and she came to her sense. Although, she couldn't hear without her hearing aids there were some sounds, at certain pitches, she could immediately identify and Fiona's disappointment was one of them. Lily stretched and let her books fall to the floor as she stood up and reached for her aides on the computer desk. It probably had something to do with being unable to use some form of weaponry she thought to herself as she leaned over the railing of the loft's makeshift second floor. She scanned the scene below, searching for a grocery bag of any kind, but her ears deceived her eyes as she watched Michael open the refrigerator all the while Fiona continued to express her discontent with the growing atrophy of her talents.

"If you're going to eat my yogurt, replace it please"

"Well then have some yogurt for me to replace" "Hey Fiona"

Fiona smiled softly in return

"How did you get here, I don't recall seeing your bicycle outside?"

Michael's concern regarding his sister puzzled her often times. He knew of her capabilities when it came to taking care of herself especially since she reminded him that he left when she was seven so she had to be a boy with girlie parts during times her brother's presence was only that of old pictures and censored letters.

His questions jarred her mind at times, angering and awing her all the same. It just depended on her mood. She was too indifferent in the late hour to really care much, but she wanted to jostle him around a little bit anyway.

"Got a ride"

Michael sighed, closing the fridge harder than he intended.

"Relax, he didn't drop me off here, you ought to know me better than that".

Now she was angry despite the fact this was supposed to be a playful set up. She always respected Michael and didn't compromise him any more than he may done so himself.

She disappeared into the shadow of small space between the couch and the desk, her back to Michael and Fiona.

Fiona turned to him, her eyes bulging slightly and her head harshly jerking in his direction

"MICHAEL"

She punched him.

Lily reappeared descending the steps holding her bike helmet; Michael took notice right away as it clicked against the snap button of her bag hanging just below her hip.

It made him stew, his arms tightly stretched the full length of space between him and the counter and the palm of his hands quickly grew hot as they pressed harder into the cool surface supporting his weight.

She stole once last glance at him and gently lowered her head, smirking at the floor. She kicked her attitude into the back of her throat; she only had herself to blame, but still took one last bite on her last word.

"Hide and seek Michael, hide and seek."

The door slowly closed behind her.

Fiona quizzically turned her attention to Michael only to find that his eyes reflectively glassed over; the corners of his mouth curled upwards. He looked at her quickly or in her direction at least and then back at the door that remained slightly ajar.

Staring densely into the foggy wake Lily left behind he saw her standing there, in the distance, smaller than her petite frame, waiting; almost limp and hardly impatient as she usually did, for a swing on her school playground.

They had said their goodbyes already, but he wanted to see her again; the little scrawny girl who came suddenly, loud and broken, into his furious childhood. Seven years before he wasn't fond at all with the fact that he had to suddenly share a bedroom with Nathan. He wasn't too cool of 10 year old to bunk with his 7-year-old brother, but usually these types of things came first and then as siblings grew they separated to their own spaces. It was all wrong, ass backwards and wrong. Lily changed all that; their private joke, but he still had to leave because he was sure he'd rot in his father's footsteps and if he couldn't save himself how could he save them.

His parents hadn't particularly planned for more children. In fact he was already certain his father didn't want him or Nate, but at the hand of his mother they were still his boys. So it happened one night, there would soon be another Westen and all his father had to say for it was "a mistake, a damn mistake".

Fiona sliced through his flashback

"Hide and seek? do explain Michael"

The breeze that had escaped the palms finally caught up with Lily and her balance began to sway as her muscles instantly rubberized. She let the bike weave carelessly to a standstill with her pumas gingerly scraping the pavement. She sat hunched with her arms hanging, like a roped off line, from the handlebars. She reflected, her life in 10 seconds, across the expanse of Biscayne Bay. Either she was too board or too excited but this had been what she wanted, right, to be Michael's little sister again.


End file.
